When was the last time you whipped up a batch of homemade cookies?
Okay, now when was the last time you whipped up a batch of homemade cookies from a new recipe?
We all have our tried-and-true favorites, our comfort food go-tos that remind us of childhood and stir up feelings of joy and belonging, our coveted ancestral recipes and cherished timeworn favorites that are meant to be celebrated with each scrumptious bite. It’s incredible how something as simple as a taste or a smell can bring us back to moments where we have felt treasured and seen, to moments where we have felt – and continue to feel – connected to those around us through warmth, laughter, and impeccable food.
Perhaps no one can identify with this sentiment more than local baker and cookie creator extraordinaire, Sarah Kieffer. As Kieffer beautifully conveys in her book 100 Cookies:
“Cookies are the cornerstone of pastry. But for many of us, they are also at the core of our memories, connecting our palate to our person. Cookies wait for us after school, anxious for little ones to emerge from a bus and race through the door. They fit ourselves snugly in boxes, happy to be passed out to neighbors on cold Christmas mornings; trays of them line long tables, mourning the loss of the dearly departed. While fancy cakes and tarts walk the red carpet, their toasted meringue piles, spun sugar, and chocolate curls boasting of rich rewards that often fail to sustain, cookies simply whisper knowingly. Instead of pomp and flash, they offer us warm blankets and cozy slippers. They slip us our favorite book, they know the lines to our favorite movies. They laugh at our jokes, they stay in for the night. They are good friends, they are kind words. They are not jealous, conceited, or proud. They evoke a giving spirit, a generous nature. They beg to be shared and rejoice in connection. Cookies are home.”
Cookies are warm. Cookies are familiar. Cookies are indulgent. Cookies are humble. Cookies are home. I couldn’t have said it better myself.
That in mind, it is also powerful when we elect to travel outside our homes, when we venture away from the culinary path most traveled, put treasured tradition on momentary pause, and intentionally opt to try something new. When we do this, we are often pleasantly surprised by what our perspectives – and yes, our tastebuds – ultimately discover. It’s truly amazing how our world can expand with each bite we take.
This figurative (and, let’s be real, literal) hunger is what initially drove me to purchase Kieffer’s baking book. As I explored a few months ago in my April 1st post “Cookie #16,” 100 Cookies explores one hundred recipes inclusive of classic cookies, novel treats, brownies, and bars that promise to tickle your tastebuds and expand your sugary horizons. Kieffer delights her readers as she walks them through well-practiced techniques and teaches them how to whip up treats they may have never envisioned making themselves. She dazzles, she charms, she educates, and she leads us into exciting new territories: Kieffer is as much a “spiritual guide” as she is a baking force to be reckoned with.
As I did with “Cookie #16” for this stop on my cookie journey I elected to choose my next adventure by sprinkling a bit of unexpected randomness into the process: I asked Cam to give me a number one through one hundred. He landed on fourteen, so I opened up my cookbook, skimmed the recipe, and started crafting my ingredient list. Once again, I had chosen to put my trust in the cookie gods; my fate sat squarely in their flour-covered, numerically randomized hands, and I wasn’t mad about it.
It turns out Cookie #14 is a thumbprint cookie, a delectable crumby little morsel shellacked with scrumptious jelly. As Kieffer expounds, “There is some debate over where thumbprints originated, and many cultures have their own adaptations of the cookie. In Sweden, these little jam-packed treats are called rosenmunnar, which translates to ‘raspberry cave,’ and I think this is a perfect description. My version is made with hazelnut flour and strawberry, so it’s not quite a perfect translation, but I think they are rather delicious regardless.”
And while Kieffer puts a creative spin on a traditional classic, I decided – out of ease, convenience, and unrelenting stubbornness – to put a spin on a spin on a traditional classic and “follow the recipe” in the most Katie way possible[1].
Here’s what happened: I opened my fridge and realized I already had raspberry jam on hand, so I decided to lean into the rosenmunnar tradition and elected to go full on raspberry versus embrace Kieffer’s strawberry approach. And then, separately – and here is where that stubbornness came in – I realized that Target doesn’t carry hazelnut flour, and when I went to Whole Foods and saw it was $18 for a teeny tiny bag of the stuff I threw my hands up in sheer disgust, dug my heels into the ground in fuming frustration, and said[2] “oh hell no!”
So, refusing to pay nearly twenty dollars for half a cup’s worth of ingredients, I turned my butt around, drove myself back home, and decided to “wing it” by using the unmarked flour I had sitting in a mason jar in my cupboard[3]. I convinced myself that even though it might not be perfect, I was still following the spirit of Kieffer’s recipe, so what could really go wrong?
…Right[4]?
Opting to go rogue with the big stuff I figured I should probably follow the rest of Kieffer’s instructions as closely as possible, so I diligently made my way through each of her outlined steps. I preheated my oven, let my butter soften, separately mixed my dry ingredients, and then carefully made my way through the rest of the process, most of which involved turning on my stand mixer and letting that bad boy do all the heavy lifting.
Once I had whipped up the dough, I rolled it into what I thought was the recommended ½ oz balls[5], spaced them out evenly across my parchment-lined cookie trays, and used my thumb to make a small gorge in the center of each ball. Then, one by one I made an indentation and nestled a generous if not heaping serving of raspberry jam into the little doughy valley I had just created. I derived an inordinate amount of satisfaction from completing this step, and getting my hands in the dough was delightfully squishy, impossibly gratifying, and surprisingly therapeutic. Who ever said baking cookies wasn’t good for you?
About fourteen minutes and a whole lot of thumb-squishing later, my first batch of cookies was ready! Cam and I (barely) let them cool to room temperature before diving in to take our first couple bites, and boy were we thrilled with the end result! The sweet zing of the raspberry perfectly complements the celestial crumbliness of the cookie[6], and the ingredients ultimately work together to create a kickass combination that inevitably leave you wanting more.
Similar to my experience writing “Cookie #16” in April I thoroughly enjoyed exploring uncharted territory, making something new, getting creative, and putting my own personal spin on things. The end result was scrumptious and satisfying, and it left me feeling accomplished in more ways than one. As I often say, there’s value in embracing the unexpected and following adventure wherever it leads. For while every bite along the way might not necessarily be flawless, I promise that the journey itself will be utterly delicious.
[1] Spoiler alert: I ad libbed the heck out of it.
[2] At least in my head but also probably out loud..
[3] This smells like it could be almond flour… right?
[4] I live dangerously, I know.
[5] I ended up grossly mis-approximating and was way off.
[6] Let’s be real, it was the almond flour that did the trick. Solid move, Katie: Solid move.
Comments are closed.